


The Daily Grind

by Cup_aTea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cup_aTea/pseuds/Cup_aTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton's the proud owner of 'The Daily Grind', his very own coffee house complete with part time baristas and fancy coffee drinks.  Too bad he can't string a sentence together when a hot guy in a nice suit walks into the place.  Luckily, the universe decides to help him out.</p><p>In which Clint Barton is the clumsy hero; Darcy Lewis is his plucky young assistant with a good eye for a cute butt; and Phil Coulson is an accidental IPod thief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Daily Grind

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be part of my A-Z work, but I realized there's more that I want to do in this verse, so here you go. I wrote most of this in one sitting, so any mistakes are wholeheartedly my own.  
> (Also, I've never tried a cinnamon hazelnut latte, but I used to make them for one of our customers and they smelled *amazing*)

Clint wiped his hands on his apron as he walked to the front of The Daily Grind. He could hear Darcy talking somebody’s ear off at the counter. He smiled because that was nothing new. And then he came around the corner and stopped still.

The guy standing across from his exuberant barista was cute. Scratch that, he was _hot_. James Bond or Cary Grant in ‘North by Northwest’ kind of hot. Sure, his hair was thinning on top, but there were stories behind that crooked nose, Clint was sure of it. The guy’s eyes fucking crinkled when he smiled, for fuck’s sake—oh, Clint was gonna have it bad for this one.

As all of this raced through Clint’s brain, the man turned and focused his smile—and holy shit were his eyes _blue_ —on Clint. Even though he’d already stopped moving, Clint probably would have tripped over something if Darcy hadn’t jumped in.

“Oh, and that’s the boss man,” she said. “Hey boss man, what’s up?”

“I was just, uh…the grill. I ungrilled the grill in the kitchen so we can’t, uh, grill…right...now.”

 _Barton, you dummy_ , he thought as he furiously tried to conjure grammatical English. He was aware of both Darcy and their customer staring at him in concern.

“I promise he’s usually more coherent than that. Well, sometimes… Hey boss man, you wanna fill the dark roast for me?” Darcy said with a ridiculous grin on her face.

Clint rolled his eyes at her even as he moved behind the counter. “You know that’s literally why I hired you, right? To take care of the coffee work.”

“But then I’d have to grab the step stool and make our number one customer wait.

“I’m your only customer,” the besuited man said wryly.

“Exactly,” Darcy said, as if it made some sort of sense.

Clint listened as Darcy bantered the man into a single shot red eye and something more elaborate for his friend.

“Ok, if she wants something with flavor but not too sweet, I’m gonna recommend a cinnamon hazelnut latte.”

“That sounds…unusual,” the man said.

“It’s delicious, trust me. If she hates it, your next coffee is on me,” Darcy said.

The man looked ready to argue the last part, but then his phone went off. “Excuse me—go ahead with the cinnamon hazelnut though. We’ll try it.”

He walked over to the windows, answering his phone as he went.

Clint, finished with the coffee, stepped up to help Darcy with the drinks.

“Ten outta ten, boss. He was definitely checking you out,” she said.

“What?” Clint was so startled he nearly dropped the shot he was about to pour.

“Aw c’mon boss, I saw the look you gave him. Why do you think I had you fill the coffee? Believe me, he was definitely looking too. Arms, butt, the whole deal,” she said, gesturing vaguely at Clint’s torso.

Clint was still stammering out a reply as their customer circled back around to the counter.

“Sorry about that. I’m afraid I really do have to run now. Thank you for the coffee suggestion, Ms. Lewis. I’ll be in touch.”

Coffee paid for, the man hurried out of the shop, and Clint absolutely did not watch his ass as he left. (Except for the part where he 100% did.)

“See boss, I totally give you permission to tap that—he had a super cute butt.”

“Aw, Darcy, no, I’m not going to sleep with one of our customers,” Clint said. 

At the same moment Darcy gave a little gasp.

“No, you absolutely are not, I revoke my permission. The next time you see that thief, you should tase him. He stole my IPod!”

Sure enough, Darcy’s IPod touch was gone. In its place, their newest customer had accidently left his phone and apparently grabbed Darcy’s mp3 player instead.

“And this is why we have a ‘no phones or IPods at the counter’ rule,” Clint sighed. “Or at least one of the reasons. You’re just going to have to wait for him to return it, Darce.”

“Boss, you don’t understand, my music is my life. I had just downloaded two new albums onto there. I mean, how am I going to survive cleaning this place without music?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. I’m going back to work now,” Clint said as he headed for the back. Under his breath he muttered, “I’m never hiring teenagers again.”

“I heard that!” Darcy shouted. “And I’m twenty-two, thank you!”

“Working now, Darcy,” he shouted back, letting the kitchen door swing closed behind him.

\---

It took longer than Clint expected for the IPod guy to return, but it was really only a few hours. Clint was just tidying up the front before he left for the night when there was a quick knock on the front door. The guy was standing out there, still in his suit, looking a little sheepish. Clint let him in with a grin.

“Looking for something?” he asked cheekily.

“Uh, yes, and I came to return this to its rightful owner,” the guy said ruefully, holding up the missing IPod. “Sorry it’s so late, but I had some late meetings at work. My name’s Phil, by the way.”

“I’m Clint. Darcy will be glad to see her music returned,” Clint said, taking the IPod and (totally not showing off) hopping over the counter. He pulled out the guy’s—Phil’s—phone. 

“This look familiar?” he said.

“Yes,” Phil said fervently. He tried the screen, but the battery was completely dead. Clint rubbed the back of his next as he walked back around the counter.

“Sorry—it rang a lot. It didn’t seem right to answer it.”

“I’m sure I’ve got plenty of messages waiting for me. I’ll have to find somewhere to charge it.”

“I’d say you could charge it here, but I was just about to lock up—“

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to—“ Phil started as Clint continued.

“—But you could charge it at my place. It’s right upstairs. I mean. If you wanted too…” And, oh man, Clint was waiting to crash and burn. Even _he_ was usually smoother than this.

“I, uh…sure?”

“If you want to, I mean, you don’t have to or anything.”

“No, that sounds great, it just might…take a while,” Phil said.

“That’s fine. I’m sure we can find a way to fill the time.” And wow, Clint was taking this from bad to worse.

But Phil—miracle of miracles—was smiling at him. “I’d like that. But are you sure? I mean, you must need to be up early for all this.”

“Nah,” Clint said. “I let Katie-Kate open. She would never trust me with the place—I’m a zombie until 10 or 11 a.m.”

“Well, I don’t think I can stay that late, but—“ A moment later, the tips of Phil’s ears flushed bright red as his brain caught up with his mouth. Clint thought it was adorable, not to mention flattering.

“You can stay as late as you want,” Clint said.

“Yeah?” Phil asked, staring at Clint’s lips.

“Yeah,” said Clint, returning the favor. Phil had a very attractive mouth, he had to say, even in the dim light of the coffee shop.

_Dim._

_Coffee shop._

The thought rattled around in Clint’s brain for a moment before it really caught up with him. Before he found himself making out with a once-customer-cum(heh)-bedmate in the middle of his business floor.

“Ok, um, wow, sure, just let me finish up and then we can do that thing.” Clint did his double checks on all the locks and equipment in record time before leading an amused, willing Phil out the back and to his separate flight of stairs.

Phil stole a kiss, and then they were making their way up. Phil’s hand was warm in the small of his back.

As he fumbled with the key, Clint said over his shoulder, “Don’t mind the mess. Or the clothes. I wasn’t really expecting the company.”

“Clint,” Phil said into his ear, his breath hot against Clint’s skin. “I couldn’t care less about the laundry.”

And then the door gave under Clint’s hands, and Phil was pressing him into the wall and kicking the door shut behind them, and Clint really didn’t care about the laundry either.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> They were just supposed to flirt and set up a date, I don't know what happened.


End file.
